


Never Any Regrets

by suitesamba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry copes with losing his wife and his job. Loner Severus finds his path crossing more and more with Harry's. Shouldering tragedy and moving forward, can the two find elusive peace...together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Any Regrets

**One**

He wasn't expecting anyone.

So when the knock sounded on his door he put down his potions journal, stood up only reluctantly, stretched, and made his way to the front room. He could barely discern a shape outside the opaque glass of the porch windows and quickly pulled open the door, having already decided to be annoyed. In the six years he'd lived in this cottage, he could count on one hand the number of times someone knocked on the door. Flooed in, yes. Owled—certainly. But knocked like a common muggle?

The man on the porch turned slowly from the window toward him, a vague smile on his face. Severus started.

"Potter…." The name escaped his lips unbidden.

It has been eleven years since the defeat of the Dark Lord. Ten and a half since Potter, Granger and Weasley had testified—on his behalf—at his trial. Potter had voluntarily submitted to Veritaserum. When it was over, when Severus Snape had been sentenced to four years of Wizarding Community Service in Patagonia instead of being interred in Azkaban, Potter had pushed through the press to reach him, his Ministry guard on his heels.

"Good luck, Professor," he had said quietly, his eyes saying the good-bye that did not come from his lips. Severus had met his eyes and inclined his head. His throat, barely healed, was tight with emotion. Words would not come.

And that was all. The Weasley girl materialized next to Potter and put a possessive arm around his waist. She eyed Severus appraisingly and gave him what could only be called a careful smile. She guided Potter away. Severus' eyes followed them as the press crowded in around Harry, badgering him for a statement.

Which he didn't give, Severus had noted even as he was being led away.

And now that boy was on his doorstep. That boy who no longer looked like a boy.

The four years abroad had changed Severus Snape. The constant exposure to sun and wind had erased the dungeon pallor from his skin. His outlook, freed from the clutches of Voldemort and the duty to Dumbledore and the Order for the first time in his adult life, had broadened. Still, he missed his potions while he was gone. When he returned, he bought a cottage in Hogsmeade and started an owl-order specialty potions business. He found people amazingly willing to forgive him, though he often wondered if most even remembered him at all. He had a variety of clients, but Poppy and the Hogwarts infirmary, along with George and Ron Weasley and their shop, accounted for half of his business. He was busy. He made enough money to be comfortable. And while he could not claim to be happy, he at least spent his days pain-free. The faded mark on his arm no longer burned and the persistent headache he had endured in his spying days eased now that he no longer had to constantly occlude his mind.

Ron and George Weasley, with whom he occasionally enjoyed a drink and a meal at one of Hogsmeade's three pubs, delighted in giving him up-to-the-minute news on all the goings-on in the family. Their delight came mainly from his sour expression, feigned disinterest and the way he would roll his eyes. He didn't have to read the Prophet to follow Ginny Weasley's Quidditch career and Potter's rise to the top of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, though he sometimes would watch the tiny figures on brooms whiz dangerously about the feature photos in the Prophet's sports section which, in the lazy years after the war, took up at least half of the paper each day. He saw the announcement of the return of Ginny Potter to the Harpies following the birth of the last Potter baby. In this case, George and Ron had already plied him with annoying baby photos and details about nappies that made him scrunch his prominent nose. But when Ginny Potter was killed in a muggle car accident and Harry Potter seriously injured, he didn't find out about it through the papers or from the Ron and George. He had stumbled on it accidentally no more than two hours after it happened, when Bill Weasley failed to come to him for his Wolfsbane potion. Bill, while not a full werewolf, still suffered during the full moon and took the potion to ease the symptoms. His wife took the children to the Burrow every full moon, leaving Bill to his moods and fire whiskey. That night, Severus had flooed over to Shell Cottage to deliver the potion in person, already sporting an attitude, and a distraught Bill, drinking alone on the screened-in porch facing the ocean, told him that Ginny and Harry's muggle taxi had been hit by a commuter train. That Ginny had died instantly while Harry was barely hanging on. Snape quietly pushed the potion over to Bill and snagged his glass of whiskey, downing it in a single swallow.

"Where is he?" he had demanded.

Minerva had come to his cottage several days later, face looking older than ever. "He's going to pull through," she told him quietly after accepting his offer of tea and biscuits. "But it will be a hard road back for him."

Severus stared at his tea, feigning interest in the cup in his hand.

"Hermione told me what you did," continued Minerva, putting her teacup down and meeting his eyes. Hermione Granger-Weasley was the current Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts.

She doesn't know anything, he reminded himself.

"No one else was equipped to do anything," he responded out loud after a long pause, when it was clear to him she was waiting for him to say something. "All I did was get him out of that muggle hospital hell hole." Getting him out had involved obliviating a dozen muggle medical personnel, an illegal port-key and a pending Ministry investigation over the use of magic around Muggles, but he had done what had to be done.

Minerva gave him a thoughtful look. "Well, he owes his life to you." Severus raised his eyebrows. Minerva sighed. "I expect Hermione will tell him."

That had been six months ago, and he'd heard little about Potter since then. The press, in an unbelievable show of compassion, left him and his young children largely alone. He had seen George and Ron several times since the accident, but they'd been understandably more subdued after the loss of a second sibling and weren't as inclined to while the evenings away in a pub. He hadn't seen them for more than a month now.

"Ron told me we're neighbors now," said Potter, bringing Snape back to the here and now. "I bought a cottage 'round the corner, across from their shop. Thought I'd drop by to say hullo." He smiled slightly and shifted, looking a bit uncomfortable. Severus suddenly realized he hadn't said anything yet in reply.

"You're looking better," he said, realizing that Potter could be half dead and missing his nose and still look better than the last time he had seen him. "Come in, then." He stood back from the door and the boy picked up the plain brown cane leaning against the porch wall.

He led Potter through the house to the enclosed patio in the back, acutely aware of the sound of the cane tapping the wooden floor. When he sat down across the table from him a moment later, Severus noted that Potter's hair had grown long in true wizarding fashion and that the unkempt look of his youth was gone. He saw, for the first time, that the adult Harry Potter reminded him as much of Lily as of James, and that observation disquieted him.

"You've changed," said Potter, speaking first as he settled himself in the chair. He straightened out his left leg and rested it on the small ottoman Snape automatically scooted across the floor to him with his foot. He surveyed his former professor closely for a moment then gave a half-smile. "It suits you."

"What suits me?" asked Severus, lifting an eyebrow.

"The sun," answered Potter. He looked around the small room and back at Severus. "I didn't mean to stay long; I know you work here and are probably in the middle of…."

"No, I've nothing brewing, if that's what you mean," cut in Severus. He knew he sounded too abrupt, but he was disused to casual conversation…no, to any conversation…with Harry Potter.

"Oh. Good then," commented Potter. He looked around the room again, his eyes coming to rest on a small painting beside the door. The silence, though not uncomfortable, wore on.

"I'm sorry about your wife," said Severus, awkwardly breaking the silence and kicking himself internally for blurting it out without preamble.

Harry stirred his tea. He looked uncomfortable but not surprised. "Thanks," he said. "I appreciate that." They were both quiet a moment, Severus waiting for the inevitable.

"Actually, I wanted to thank you….for what you did after the accident." Harry stopped stirring his tea and looked up at Severus. His green eyes looked bigger in an older face, the absence of glasses making them even more prominent. Severus noticed a new scar receding into Potter's hairline from above his eyebrow. "You realize I have my legs because of you. The muggle doctors were getting ready to amputate. When Hermione told me…"

Severus carefully set down his teacup.

"The Weasleys and Granger were incapable of rational thought," he said. He realized, of course, that his actions hadn't exactly been rational either. If Bill hadn't been half out of his head on a fire whiskey binge, he'd have realized it too and would have eventually told Harry. Harry looked at him warily. Severus sighed and changed direction. "Your testimony kept me out of Azkaban," he said after a moment's pause, a moment spent looking out the window behind his visitor. "The years abroad helped me. After everything that happened…everything that I did… I admit I was surprised that you bothered."

Harry looked up from his tea to meet his old potion master's eyes. "I thought we made our peace with each other," he said, his voice dropping to an almost-whisper. "That final night before your trial." After being released from St. Mungos, weeks before his trial, Snape had been housed at Grimmauld Place. Potter had vouched for him personally, vouched for him upon his magic, keeping him out of prison while awaiting his trial.

Snape held the gaze. Determined, as always, perhaps duller than he remembered, shadowed with pain. He frowned as he noticed for the first time the faint shadows below his eyes. Potter noticed his frown and quickly turned his head away.

Snape reached out and touched the young man's hand. Potter recoiled slightly, then bravely—or perhaps stoically—looked up. Snape spoke again, back to the leveled, clinical tone he had perfected these past years, leaving behind the uncomfortable topic.

"You are in pain."

Potter laughed. Rubbed his hands on his eyes as he shook his head and laughed.

"I've been in pain for years, Severus."

The name…the first time he'd used it since he arrived…. Snape frowned again. He understood that Potter wasn't speaking of physical pain alone.

"I would have waited." Potter caught his eye, held it.

Ah. This, then. Severus stood.

"Waited for me? Waited for me to return so you could have the peace you wanted? The family? The career? She offered you the life I could not. A family. Children." He looked at Harry pointedly, daring him to protest.

Harry stared down into his tea. He sighed. Severus knew he had abandoned the argument. Merlin knows they'd been through it time enough at Grimmauld Place. He'd lived there three months after leaving St. Mungo's and a week before the trial they'd finally succumbed. An argument about Snape's planned guilty plea, a slammed door as Harry pled with him not to give up, Harry chasing him up the stairs, grabbing his shoulder. The touch…that touch…. There was no going back after that but he'd regretted it immediately, told Harry the next morning that no matter the outcome of the trial, he was to forget him and marry Ginny Weasley, have a half dozen green-eyed red-headed children….He watched now as the boy squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead.

"I haven't felt like myself in a long time. And Ginny…" he looked up at his old professor, his first lover, and his eyes showed his loss, his sorrow….and something more. Guilt, decided Severus. "I guess it turned out that I . . . I wasn't the same guy she fell in love with."

Snape scoffed.

"She knew you had been through hell, Potter," he answered, reverting to the boy's surname out of habit.

Potter stared down into the dregs of his cold tea. "She waited for me. She didn't come after Ron, Hermione and me when we took off after the horcruxes when I turned 17. It practically killed her. She deserved to get what she wanted after all that. I tried to tell her that I was damaged goods. I didn't think I'd be a good husband. She didn't seem to care. She thought we could put it all behind us and make a new life. Hell, she convinced me."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"I fulfilled my obligation to her…and more. I was always faithful. But…" He looked up again at Severus, clearly uncomfortable. "You have anything stronger than this?" he asked, holding up his teacup.

Snape regarded him a moment then drew out his wand and summoned a bottle of scotch and two glasses. He pushed a half-full glass across the table at Harry and leaned back in his chair, watching as Harry raised the glass and downed a swallow with a practiced air. Harry stood, favoring his left leg, and walked around the table, over to the screened wall and looked out at the garden. He lifted his glass again, his eyes far away.

Severus turned to regard him. Intense green eyes, long and tousled hair, muscles still shaped from an Auror career only recently ended. Only the limp and the shadows on his face belied the pain Severus was sure he was living with, growing accustomed to. He pushed his chair back and stood. He walked over to stand beside Harry, not close enough to touch him, and looked out over the garden. Harry was watching the butterflies on the columbine.

"Have you thought about me over the years?" The question was voiced softly, and Harry still did not turn to look at him.

Nearly every day. Definitely every night. "Of course," he answered. "It would have been impossible not to."

Harry looked over at Severus and sighed.

"It was only one night, Severus. Eleven years ago. But I can't forget it. When Ginny was alive, I….I didn't dwell on it. But now…"

"That was a long time ago, Harry," said Severus carefully. He was nothing if not disciplined. He chose not to ruin the boy's life eleven years ago. He'd pushed him away, back into the arms of the family he'd grown to regard as his own, into the arms of the girl who he thought could give him the love and stability he needed. He'd made for himself a peaceful life, if not a particularly happy one, satisfied, he told himself frequently, with the freedom he never thought he'd have. He'd convinced himself that he saw only Lily in Harry, and that Harry sought absolution through him.

Something in Harry seemed to shut down.

"Listen, I appreciate you taking the time to visit with me." Potter set his empty cup on the table. He forced a smile. "I'll be starting at Hogwarts in the Fall. Madam Hooch is finally retiring and Minerva has asked me to take over the flying lessons and Quidditch coach position. The leg doesn't bother me when I'm on the broom for some reason. Perhaps I'll see you around?"

Severus, however, was not ready for Harry to leave. He reached out and caught one wrist in his hand, pulled it toward him, forcing the young man to take a step forward.

"Why did you come here, Harry?" he asked. His other hand traveled up Harry's other arm to his elbow, grasping it lightly. His body sang at the remembered touch.

"To thank you," answered Harry, quite softly, raising his gaze from Severus' hands on his arms to Severus' eyes.

Severus released his elbow and Harry's arm dropped bonelessly to his side. He took a step backward, still facing his former student.

"You've thanked me already," said Severus. "Is there anything else?"

Harry gazed at him wordlessly for a moment then shook his head slightly as he turned to leave.

"How old are you, Harry?" he asked.

"28," he answered, his back turned on Severus.

"Old enough to know what you want," said Severus. "And that what you want isn't always good for you. You have children, Harry. A grieving family. A reputation to maintain."

Harry paused with his hand on the door knob. "You'd be good for me," he said. "But I'm not sure I'd be good for you." He gave Snape an apologetic look and opened the door.

Severus let him go. It was too early. Too soon. The demons that haunted young Harry Potter could not be banished so quickly. If Harry had come here to find out if Severus remembered, he had his answer. Bur Severus Snape had learned to live for the day. Severus Snape did not hope.

 

 **TWO**

August passed into September before Severus saw Harry again.

He had gone to his front garden at midnight to harvest moonflowers when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone shuffling down the cobbled street. He turned toward the sound to see a wizard walking slowly and unsteadily along the curb.

"Sev'rus," called the recognizable but faint voice of Harry Potter as he came within earshot.

"Mr. Potter." Severus watched the obviously drunk man approach. "Been at the Three Broomsticks, I take it?"

"Sev…"

Harry had moved from the shadows into the bright moonlight and Severus took a step forward in alarm, realizing that the young wizard was not drunk but injured.

"What in Merlin's name happened to you?" he exclaimed. Even in the moonlight he could see that Harry had a deep gash above his eye and a bruised and swollen lip, as if he'd been in some sort of Muggle fist fight. He reached out to steady the former auror and Harry winced.

"'t's OK," said Harry faintly. "Got in a fight is all. Had a bit much to drink…"

"You're not drunk." It was a statement, not a question.

"Sobering potion…Robinson…gave it to me. Used to be my partner…" Harry looked behind himself to the still dark and quiet street. "Promised him I'd go right home…Can't seem to find my cane, though." He looked around himself in the street hopefully.

Severus had been studying the other man closely. From the way Potter was carrying himself, the obvious injuries to his face were only the tip of the proverbial iceberg.

"Robinson? You were out with Auror Robinson?"

But Harry was shaking his head. "He was working. Bit of a mess…" Harry was backing up as he spoke, checking the street again and looking very much like he wanted to continue on his way.

"Where are your children?" asked Severus suddenly, moving quickly behind Harry.

The question obviously confused Harry. "Molly 'n Arthur are minding them….why?"

"Then you have time to come inside…for tea," Severus said as he steered the younger man toward his front door.

" I'm OK..." protested Harry, wincing. "'Sides it's too late for tea…" But he headed toward the house anyway, propelled forward by a firm arm on his shoulder. He staggered slightly on the stair and wavered.

Severus leaned in from behind. "Tea, Harry." Up the front stairs, through the screen door, past the room where they had shared tea and fire whisky, into a small sitting room with a fireplace. Harry allowed Severus to remove his outer robes and Severus winced at the blood seeping through from the younger man's shoulder, then immediately went to work on the buttons of his teaching robe and removed that. He cursed at the tight blue t-shirt but pushed the man back onto the sofa before pulling the offending garment carefully over Harry's head.

A sharp intake of breath as he regarded the deep puncture wound on the shoulder, still oozing blood. A knife? He didn't bother to ask as he rolled the t-shirt and pressed it against the wound. Harry groaned as he dropped his head back against the sofa cushions.

"You need a healer, Harry. I can't repair that kind of damage. St. Mungo's, then," he said. "I'll floo call Arthur."

Harry struggled to stand. "No…not Mungo's," he slurred. He swayed and Severus steadied him. "Not hospital…"

"Poppy then," said Severus, without argument. "Do you think you can floo?"

Harry took an unsteady step toward the fireplace.

"Together, then," said Severus. He wrapped his arms tightly around the injured man and managed to drop the floo powder into the flames as he did so.

"Hogwarts infirmary." They were gone in a whirl, the offer of tea forgotten.

"Aunt Mione, Dad's friend is here."

Hermione looked up from the tea kettle at her nephew. She didn't ask who the friend was. She'd been expecting him all morning.

"Thanks, James. Bring him back to see your Dad, then." She finished preparing the tea tray, adding another cup and topping off the cream. She lifted it carefully and made her way back to the small sitting room behind the kitchen.

"Good morning, Severus," she said as she entered.

"Mrs. Weasley," said the visitor politely. He was clutching a folded newspaper in his hands. "I trust you and your family are well."

Hermione smiled. The man minded his social graces, even though his voice did not quite mask the anger seething beneath the surface. She glanced at Harry as he struggled into a seated position on the couch.

"Everyone is fine," she said as she set the tray down on the tea table. She quickly made Harry's tea and pressed it into his hands then turned to Severus.

"Cream, no sugar," he said as he sat down stiffly on a worn leather chair opposite the sofa. She handed his cup to him a moment later then announced "I'll be out front with the boys if you need anything, Harry. Lily's still napping." He looked at her gratefully and nodded. She smiled briefly at Severus then turned and left the room.

"I'm glad you came by," said Harry. "Gives me a chance to thank you…again."

"I tried Hogwarts first, of course," said Severus. "Even though Poppy said last night that you needn't stay too long, I hardly thought you'd be home this early."

Harry stirred his tea with his left hand. "James and Al don't like hospitals much," he said. He took a drink of tea. "George brought me back a couple hours ago and Hermione helped me get settled before Molly came with the children. No, she's gone, Severus." He chuckled as Severus looked around for the Weasley matriarch.

Severus, for his part, could tell how much even that chuckle hurt Harry. He looked better than he had 12 hours before, when he had left Harry in Poppy's capable hands, but his skin was still abnormally pale and even Poppy hadn't been able to prevent the bruising that marred the right side of his face.

"I suppose you've seen the paper, then?" asked Harry, gesturing at the newspaper clutched in Severus white-knuckled hand.

"You said it was a bar fight," said Severus tightly as he unfolded the paper the tawny owl had brought him several hours ago.

"It was a bar fight," answered Harry. "I was in a fight, in a bar."

"Boy-Who-Lived Defends Dumbledore's Death-Eater Assassin," read Severus. "Drunken Harry Potter picks fight with bar patrons…" He tossed the paper toward Harry. It landed face up next to him on the couch. A dated picture of Severus, probably from his trial, leered up at him.

"I've seen it," said Harry lightly, folding the paper over casually.

"You are reckless!" said Snape, leaning in closer to Harry. "You are lucky to be alive after that. Do not…and I repeat…do not endanger yourself for my reputation. It isn't worth it."

Harry stared hard at him, and Severus could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

"They were talking about that registry program the new Minister…"

"I am well aware of the program, Harry," cut in Severus. "Whatever will be, will be. You should not…no, you cannot…change that."

"I will not let them brand you," said Harry tightly.

"I have been branded for more than 30 years," sighed Severus. "Another mark…will just be a mark. IH doesn't matter. I live a secluded life. There aren't that many who will have to see it."

"You will," said Potter, more quietly still. "You make potions. You write. You'll see the mark every time you write a letter or an order, every time you stir a potion."

"I know what I am, Harry," said Severus as he finished his tea and stood up. "A brand will not change that." He glanced at the paper still lying on the couch. "I ask you again to not put yourself in danger on my account."

Harry's mouth twitched again. "Touché," he whispered as Severus left the room.

 

 **THREE**

On Boxing Day, Poppy Pomfrey sent a rush owl requesting quick-acting fever reducer, child-strength. Severus filled the emergency order by return owl and promised her a visit by end of day to discuss her second term potions needs.

Requests like that from Poppy were not uncommon, and as Hogwarts potions made up fully a quarter of his income, he was happy to comply, even on Boxing Day.

So it was that at 4 p.m., after trudging in the snow from his cottage to Hogwarts in his cussed determination to get some exercise in the dreary winter months, he entered the infirmary and found Poppy hovering over a cot in the corner. The cot's occupant was sleeping, peacefully it seemed, but the man at the side of the cot looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"Harry, you've got to get home and get some sleep," said Poppy. "He's turned the corner. He'll be fine."

"I'll sleep here again," said Potter, rubbing tired eyes.

"I'll stay with him while you're gone, Harry," cajoled Poppy. He shook his head tightly, and she sighed, then turned her head toward the clock on the wall and noticed Severus for the first time.

"Ah, Severus, good timing," she said brightly. "How about doing me a big favor?" He nodded cautiously, meeting Potter's eyes.

"Escort our Mr. Potter home and make sure he gets something to eat and a good nap. Molly and Arthur have the other children so there's no excuse for Harry not to catch a few hours of much-needed sleep." She looked pointedly at Harry.

Severus stared at her then over at Potter again. Potter, for his part, stared at Poppy too.

"But…" he began.

"But nothing. You are to get home, get cleaned up, get a warm meal in you and take a two-hour nap. Then, and only then, will you be allowed back in the infirmary. Albus is going to be fine. The sleeping draught will last at least another six hours. You are doing him no favors by wearing yourself out."

Severus suppressed a smile and rolled his eyes at Harry.

"Come then, Potter, before she turns us both into ferrets," he said. He let his eyes stray down to the sleeping child. A familiar mop of dark hair peaked out above the coverlet.

"Appendicitis," said Poppy. "With it being Christmas and all, it was easy to think the pain was from over-eating or excitement. It was touch and go for a night but your fever-reducer worked like a charm."

Potter kissed his son on the forehead then stood up and gathered his heavy outer robe from the bed next to Albus'. "I'll humor you," he said, turning to Poppy, "because you've been so good to Al…I know you have his best interest at heart." He walked slowly over to where Severus still stood by the hall door. His limp was more pronounced than usual and Severus guessed he had been keeping a bedside vigil for quite some time.

"And yours too, Mr. Potter," she said to his back. She watched curiously as the two wizards left the room, then sank into a chair by the child's bedside.

They walked in silence for the most part, and although Harry clearly did not think it necessary that Severus continue to babysit him after they got back to his cottage, he allowed the older man into his home when Severus followed him up to the door.

"Cooking supplies in the usual places, I assume?" said Severus as he dropped his cloak onto a handy chair and made his way to the kitchen, stepping over Christmas toys in the hallway.

"Of course, but…." Harry followed him and watched in amazement as Severus began pulling items from the fridge.

"I believe Poppy mentioned a bath," he said as he critically catalogued the food and made a mental decision to begin with an omelet.

"Right," said Harry as he watched the older man melt butter in a skillet. "Bath." He turned slowly and left the kitchen and Severus picked up a knife, sighed, did a quick sharpening spell, and began work.

The omelet, Severus decided, was adequate. He'd been moving it from pan to plate when Harry walked into the kitchen, barefoot, with wet, tousled hair and wearing a pair of cotton sleep pants and a Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt. Severus had eyed the t-shirt and rolled his eyes and Harry had laughed. His laugh was rich, and deep, and genuine, and Severus could not keep the corners of his mouth from turning up in, if not a smile, then at least a smirk.

Bacon and toast accompanied the meal, and Severus felt transported to his Hogwarts teaching days as he watched the younger man butter his fourth piece of toast, fold it over, and eat it in two bites.

"I'll clean up," said Harry when they were done eating, but Severus shook his head.

"Poppy says you're to sleep for two hours. Go…I'll wake you when it's time."

And Harry had gone, albeit reluctantly. But not back to his own bed, as Severus had expected he would, but to the comfortable old couch in the living room where he'd been resting the last time Severus had been in the home. It faced the fireplace, and Severus heard the flames flare up as he began clearing dishes.

A half hour later, there was no evidence of an omelet dinner, nor of the accumulated dishes from several days before that. Severus wiped his hands on a tea towel, wondering not for the first time who made and sold Quidditch-themed kitchen linens. Not having brought any reading material with him, and having already read the Prophet that day, he started toward the living room in search of a book. He paused in the short passageway between the kitchen and the living room to study the photographs on the wall. Granger, Weasley and Potter posed by the edge of the lake at Hogwarts, Granger in the middle, and all with arms about the others. Sixth year, guessed Severus. There was no seventh year, of course, for those three—and by this time even Harry had several inches on Granger. Potter and Ginny Weasley…must have been the same day….he stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders. He looked… happy… Snape decided. Black and Lupin. Now that was unexpected. Must have been taken during the short time between Black's return from Azkaban and when the veil claimed him. James and Lily. Of course. Probably resurrected from the Potter family vault. Harry and Ginny on their wedding day. He paused longer here, looking intently at the picture. From the setting he could tell it was a small and private ceremony, outside, probably at the Weasley residence in Ottery St. Catchpole. Granger and Weasley were in the picture too, smiling, holding champagne flutes. Little Teddy Lupin stuck out his tongue in the next photo, also from the wedding. His tiny dress robes matched his turquoise hair.

The passageway ran out and he walked quietly into the living room. The sofa faced away from him, toward the fireplace, but he could hear Harry's steady breathing. As expected, more pictures in this room, mainly of the children, but Severus was happy to see bookshelves beside the fireplace. He was a bit surprised that Harry had collected so many books, and half expected most to be Quidditch-related.

He chanced a backwards glance at the sleeping man. Harry lay on his back, one arm behind his head and the fingers of the other tucked just inside the elastic of his sleeping pants. The narrow strip of skin exposed between T-shirt and pants was perfectly flat but he could see the lines of a raised scar crossing the expanse. He stared longer than he should, his eyes moving from abdomen to chest to stubbled cheek. He turned quickly back to the books.

The books. Ahh, the books. He reached up and removed "Hogwarts, an Updated History" and found it signed, as expected, by its new editor, Hermione Granger-Weasley. He owned the book himself and knew she had done an admirable job, especially with the addition of the chapter on Albus Dumbledore. But on the page opposite her signature he found something odd—an ordinary white envelope glued to the page, flap open. He reached inside, curious, and drew out a handful of newspaper clippings. The first was a review of the book itself, cut from the Arts section of the Prophet. The next he unfolded was about the restoration of the castle following the final battle. But more….less expected. An article from the society pages about Granger and Weasley's wedding. Announcements of the births of their children. One about Hermione being appointed Transfiguration professor. And at the back, more faded than the others, two articles from muggle newspapers about the mysterious disappearance of the Drs. Granger.

He carefully replaced the papers, closed the envelope and book, and returned it to its shelf. A backward glance at Harry showed him that the young father was still sound asleep. He scanned the shelf and pulled down a tome on lycanthropy. Another envelope. Articles this time on Remus Lupin, on the Ministry's changing policy on non-human magical creatures, a feature on his posthumous Order of Merlin, the "hero" feature page the Prophet had done on the heroes of the war in the weeks following Voldemort's final demise, the weeks he spent in hospital then waiting for his trial. He himself had been featured in the Prophet, the article titled rather unimaginatively, "Severus Snape—Hero or Villain?"

Knowing what to look for now, he found Arthur Weasley in All Things Muggle and George and his ill-fated twin in Keeping Light in Times of Trouble. One by one he pulled down Standing Tall with the Giants, Stars of the Winter Sky, Playing Chess Like a Champion, Practical Guide to Becoming an Animagus, Dragon Breeds of Africa. His fingertips had skimmed by Most Potente Potions several times before he allowed them to stop on the book and carefully remove it from its resting place.

His stomach knotted in uncharacteristic nervousness as he opened the book. He knew before opening it that the envelope would be particularly fat. The book did not close properly. Severus, for good or ill, had been featured in the paper quite often in the months following the final battle.

He removed the sheaf from the envelope, carefully unfolded it, and started leafing through the pages. The knot in his stomach tightened. Harry had been thorough. But accusations and trials were followed by several items from the Argentinean wizard press on his work group's contributions. More articles from the Prophet from the years he was gone. What? He re-read a headline. Someone… someone had petitioned the Ministry for an Order of Merlin…for him, for Severus Snape. He skipped by those, all the way to the end (glancing briefly at a review from a French newspaper of a Potions textbook he had edited) and found, as he knew he would, the article from September about Harry's "bar fight."

He closed the book after replacing the contents, reshelved it, and went in search of the loo. When his face was clear and set again, reserved and stoic as usual, he returned to the living room and chose a neutral book from a different shelf and sat down to read. Harry didn't keep his heart on this sleeve after all. He kept it in his library, and Severus doubted very much he loaned out his books to friends.

 

 **FOUR**

Winter passed into spring. Severus had seen Harry several times, but very little had passed between them. Once it had been a chance encounter at the Three Broomsticks, and another time Harry and the children had been walking to the Owl Post Office while he was out front digging a garden plot. The little girl, Severus noted, looked more like her Grandmother and namesake than her mother, and she clutched his fence rail and watched him turn over the earth, fascinated by the wriggling earthworms. The first full moon in May, Severus was planting his moonflower seeds, at midnight, as he had learned from his mother, when he smelled acrid smoke and squinting into the night, traced it to the general vicinity of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

He apparated directly in front of the shop and realized immediately that the smoke was coming from behind him, not in front of him. He whirled around to face the small white cottage where Harry lived. He didn't see flames, but he heard them.

Other doors were opening now, other voices crying out, but he ignored them as he ran toward the front door. He reached it as it opened from inside and Harry, carrying Lily, stumbled outside, coughing. He didn't seem surprised to see Severus as he thrust Lily at him.

"Take her. I'm going back in."

Lily grabbed on to Severus as Harry stumbled away, sobbing and clutching at his robes.

"No, Harry, it's not safe!" Severus started to follow Harry, but Lily's coughing stopped him. "Harry!"

"Severus! Where's Harry!" George Weasley ran up to them, panting. Severus quickly passed the little girl to him and ran after Harry, back into the cottage. The smoke was dense but Severus saw movement and heard coughing, finally seeing Harry dragging two small shapes. He lunged at them, grabbing both boys and pushing Harry from behind to the doorway. He was already breathing in too much smoke, and Harry had doubled over in a fit of coughing. When they reached the porch, Harry gathered strength to grab one of the boys and they stumbled toward the stairs. He could hear the alarms from the magical services as they staggered into the yard. Hands grabbed the children and Severus bent over to catch his breath, gagging and panting. But Harry, inconceivably, impossibly, headed back to the front door.

"Harry! No!" His voice was a hoarse cry, hardly audible. Severus gathered his strength and ran back after the man. He caught up with him again and grabbed him around the waist. He'd managed to push him back down the stairs when a roaring noise filled the air and the large porch window exploded outward. The explosion slammed them down onto the ground as flames shot through the air above them. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't see. Harry was very still beneath him. Severus closed his eyes. He wanted to move, to pull himself and Harry further away from the inferno behind them, but the pain in his back when he so much as moved his shoulders was unbearable. He struggled to roll off Harry, but someone was shouting, and desperate hands grabbed him and pulled. A scream. Had it come from him?

"Across the street!" someone shouted. "Get them away from the house!"

"Stop struggling, I've got you," said a voice, a vaguely familiar voice. How the hell had Ron Weasley made it here so fast? Weasley half carried, half dragged him across the cobblestone street and Severus soon found himself being carefully laid on the ground on his side. He tried to roll over to his back but hands stopped and stilled him.

"No, Severus. You'll want to stay off your back."

"What's wrong with my back?" he rasped. He peered up at his rescuer's face, brightly lit from the glow across the street, and Weasley attempted a smile, distracted by another knot of people beside them.

More commotion.

"Is he breathing? Give them room. Clear out you imbeciles!"

"Harry?" he raised his head, blinking in the smoke-filled semi-darkness.

"He's right here…Poppy's working on him now," said Ron.

A child crying.

Coughing. A woman's voice, again familiar.

"One more, Mr. Potter. Try to swallow…"

He closed his eyes and waited. His back hurt. Whispers. The crack of apparition nearby. Ron Weasley talking to him in a low voice.

"They've got him sitting up now, Professor. He's got some burns on his arms and cuts on his legs from the glass…"

"Glass?" It hurt to speak. "What glass?"

But Weasley had backed off to make room for Poppy. She tried to smile at him but it came out all wrong.

"Harry's OK?" he whispered as she poured one of his own pain potions down his throat. "The children?"

"They'll all recover," she said quietly. "Mr. Potter asked about you too."

Severus closed his eyes.

The pain in his back, he'd discovered when he woke up in the infirmary in Hogwarts, was caused by the remnants of the window that had exploded outward as he was pushing Harry away from the porch. He'd absorbed the brunt of it, shielding Harry's body with his. It took Poppy most of the night to remove the glass and wood. She showed him the tray the next day and he had stared at it, mystified. Why did it feel like none of this was real? Harry running back into a house that was clearly already lost to fire, Ron Weasley carrying him to safety then comforting him, talking to him, while they waited for medical treatment, Hermione assisting as Poppy removed Harry's window from his back. He let Hermione give him a drink of water through a straw and another potion—he didn't even ask what it was, though he knew as soon as it hit his lips that he'd be falling into la la land again and soon—and closed his eyes.

When he awoke again, Minerva was sitting in a chair beside his bed.

"Feels like old times," he managed to whisper, his voice not much more than a croak. He didn't even attempt to smirk.

Minerva smiled. "The circumstances are, quite fortunately, different," she said. "Though it might feel like it, you did not suffer Cruciatus this time." She held a glass of water up to him and he gratefully drank through the straw.

"The children have been treated at St. Mungos and are with their grandparents. They'll have no lasting physical affects." She paused here a moment, looking briefly out the window. "They've moved Harry to St. Mungos," she said, watching his face carefully. "You're to go next."

His face showed his alarm.

"But Poppy…"

"Is not equipped to treat lung damage. Yours is not severe, but if you want to regain the lung capacity you had before the fire, you'll need the restorative treatment soon."

"How soon?"

"No more than an hour. Poppy will be here with the portkey," she answered.

"The fire?" he managed. "How…?"

"Accidental. A candle was left burning and it seems the cat…"

"The cat?"

Minerva shook her head. She then scooted her chair a bit closer to the bed.

"I've just been notified of a faculty vacancy next year…."

 

 **FIVE**

Since they were now colleagues, it was far easier to find a moment alone with Professor Granger-Weasley.

"Come in Severus," she said. It was early October, a Thursday evening. They'd been back at school for just more than a month now, and Severus had managed to slide back into his old position as Potion Master with alarming ease. Even establishing professional relationships with his former students on the faculty had not caused him too much bile.

"Who's on the pitch tonight?" asked Severus, watching her glance out her office window which overlooked the Quidditch Pitch.

"Gryffindor," she answered. "Harry's flying again …"

Severus followed her gaze. "Speaking of Harry…"

She studied him a moment and smiled thoughtfully. "What about him?"

"The night of the fire…after the children were out…he tried to go back again."

Hermione's gaze turned, if possible, even more thoughtful.

"And you think I know why?" she asked carefully, unwilling, it seemed, to show her hand.

Severus waved his wand at a small ottoman and transfigured it into a solid straight-back chair with a comfortable cushion. He turned it around in front of her desk and straddled it backward.

"You know," he said, "because you read. You would have wanted to borrow his books…you would have picked them up while you were there."

Hermione's eyes had widened in surprise, then narrowed in concentration.

"He showed you?"

"No," he put out quickly. "I was there just the one time, at Christmas when Albus was sick, looking for something to read while he napped."

"He was very thorough…obsessed, almost. Did you….?" She stopped, looking at her colleague shrewdly.

He sighed. "Most Potente Potions? Yes. I did."

"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked, still regarding her old Potions professor carefully.

"I need your help. I am hoping you could help me determine the titles I need."

"You want to rebuild it," she said. If she was surprised, she didn't let it show. "It will be a huge undertaking—he started collecting them right after the war."

He nodded. "I have already contacted the Prophet and have ordered back issues going back 12 years. I know he had Muggle and other wizarding sources as well, but those will have to be filled in when the first task is complete."

"This will mean the world to him," said Hermione. She had been watching Harry carefully of late. She was reasonably sure that Severus and Harry, though they had certainly become firm friends since the fire, if they weren't friends before that, had not crossed the invisible line between friendship and…well…something more.

"He was willing to risk his life to get back in there...at least in the heat of the moment." He had risen from his chair and was staring out the window toward the pitch now. "I am glad he still has flying." He left unsaid he seems to have lost nearly everything else.

Hermione hesitated. "Severus…it's been well over a year now since the accident. I would think enough time has gone by."

"He's still mourning," answered Severus without hesitation. He did not bother to challenge her unspoken assumption.

"He's not mourning Ginny," countered Hermione.

He turned toward her, regarding her carefully, then looked out toward the pitch yet again, watching the flyers sweep low and high, watching one particular shape as it arced and spun and dove at dizzying speeds. He turned and removed a roll of parchment from his robe and approached Hermione's desk.

"I've made a list….of people who seem to have some importance in Harry's life." He handed her the roll and she spread it out on her desk, smiling as it lengthened. "I have attempted to add a book title or at least a category behind each name. You knew Harry well these past years. Perhaps you could edit this list for me?"

"I'll sign another copy of Hogwarts," she said quietly as she scanned the list. She got to the bottom and looked up at her colleague. "Can you give me until this time tomorrow?"

He nodded. "You will keep this just between you and me, will you not?" he asked.

"Ron knew about his library," she said carefully. "It might be helpful to include him."

He nodded. "Thank you." He was nearly at the door when Hermione stopped him with a question.

"Has he told you about Ginny?"

Severus turned around.

"No," he answered. "Though it is clear that theirs was not the type of marriage I thought it would be."

Hermione stood and walked to the window, looking out over the pitch as she spoke.

"They were very young when they married, and Ginny soon found that being married to the Boy Who Lived wasn't everything she dreamed it would be. I think she wanted to be known for her own talents and abilities, not just for being Mrs. Harry Potter." Hermione paused to watch a figure streak across the Quidditch pitch, then turned back to look at Severus.

"Harry didn't want to play Quidditch then. He wanted to settle down and raise a family—he wanted all the things he'd always been denied—a home, a family, safety and security. But Ginny wasn't ready. He didn't follow up on the try-outs he was offered—he went to the MLE instead. His position made it easier for her to get try-outs…not that she wasn't a brilliant chaser. She was."

"Harry didn't want her to play Quidditch?" Severus had taken an involuntary step toward his former student.

Hermione shook her head. "No, not really. It took her away from home for long periods at a time. But she did play, for all of their married life, in fact. Ginny took a leave from the Harpies to have James and Albus. She wasn't at all happy about it, and after Al was born she'd been replaced by a new upstart and was bumped to the reserve spot. I think she blamed Harry for that. He was so taken with those children. She got pregnant again a year later, but this time kept flying. She lost that baby…miscarried… and Harry was devastated. When she got pregnant with Lily, he insisted she quit. She did."

Severus stared at her, trying to put together this puzzle of a marriage. Hermione had sat down at her desk again and was looking intently at the scroll he had prepared.

"There's more…?" he asked.

"Yes..." she began, then seemed to think better of it and closed her mouth. He waited patiently. Finally she sighed and looked up at him.

"She came to me when Albus was a baby. She told me about Harry's …" She stopped, apparently struggling with the words, then swallowed and looked Severus in the eye. "She told me about Harry's obsession with you." Severus took a step backwards and straightened his back.

"Obsession? I hardly would say that Harry had an obsession…"

"She found the book. At that time, it seems he was only keeping the one. He was cutting articles out about everyone, but you were the only one who merited a book."

Severus' mouth dropped open and he made an effort to close it.

Hermione smiled. "Harry tried to cover. He told her that Most Potente Potions was the first of many to come…that he had plans to document all of his friends' lives. But I don't think Ginny believed him. It did seem odd that when documenting his friends' lives, he would start….." her voice trailed off. Severus finished for her.

"With me."

She gave him a significant look.

"She wrote to me once," said Severus. He had sunk back down onto his transfigured chair. "Before they were married. She said he was shouting my name in his sleep. I wrote back to her from Patagonia…I told her it was natural. I was a Death Eater. He watched me kill Albus. He was there when I nearly died."

He was lying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, bleeding profusely, gasping for air and hoping beyond all hope that the damn bezoar would work in time, that the coagulants he had taken before coming to his master would kick in before he bled to death. Unbelievably, Potter's face had swum into focus above him and he'd managed the strength to grab onto him, to pull his face down toward him. Potter's face….he'd looked 100 years old that day… There wasn't much time…so he'd forced the memories out of his very pores, out at the boy, all the knowledge Albus told him to share, told him the boy needed in order to defeat the snake-Lord. And Potter had taken it, held him, held his eyes while from behind him the Granger girl had gathered the memory strands into a vial while Potter's fingers dug into his shoulder, while Potter's weary green eyes—Lily's eyes—held his own.

When it was over, when he was able to inhale lungfuls of the stale air of the old house, Potter lowered him to the floor.

"I'll be back when it's over," he whispered. "Hold on."

Hermione had handed him the scroll after dinner in the Great Hall the next evening. Harry was living in the castle now, with the children, and while Lily still clung to Harry and didn't wander about, James and Albus had become favorites among the teachers. Albus found an unlikely home in the Potions lab. He'd sit on a stool across from Professor Snape, watching the cauldron boil, occasionally being allowed to stir or to add ingredients. Mostly he watched and asked questions. And mostly Severus worked and answered them.

Harry had learned to check first with Severus if Albus had gone missing. Severus never sent him home. He kept him in the dungeon until Harry fire-called or came down in person to fetch him. Curiously, while Albus was with him, Severus was never reminded of James Potter, as he had been in the "Harry at Hogwarts" years, even though Albus resembled his grandfather almost as closely as his father did.

So this evening, as Severus unrolled the parchment from Hermione at his desk, he was not surprised to see Albus' head poking around the corner and then hear the stool being scooted across the stone floor toward the simmering cauldron on the tabletop.

"Dreamless Sleep for Madame Pomfrey," he said before the boy could ask. Albus closed his mouth.

"Is it s'posed to be purple?" asked the boy after a moment.

"Extremely purple," answered Severus. "How is the boil now?"

"Rolling," answered Albus, quickly.

Severus checked the timer on his desk. "Watch it for four more minutes. When the timer goes off, I'll turn off the flame and you may stir the potion, slowly, for one minute."

"Clockwise or counter?" asked the boy, picking up a stirring rod and practicing the required motion in the air.

Severus smiled. Vaguely, he wondered if Harry would have known to ask…even now.

"Clockwise," answered Severus softly. He returned to his scroll, knowing that the boy wouldn't touch the potion until he heard the timer. Hermione had edited the list rather heavily, crossing out a few names and adding others, but only one name surprised him. Next to Charlie Weasley, beside Dragon Breeds of Africa, she had written in "Draco Malfoy."

He looked at the name, stared at the name. Draco Malfoy had been saved by Harry Potter during the final battle and in turn, his mother had saved Harry. Draco and Potter had never been friends, but at the end, Potter had pulled him from the fiendfyre that consumed the Room of Requirement. He knew Draco was married now, and the father of a boy Albus' age. He wondered if Harry and Draco had any contact.

The timer on his desk went off and Albus looked up at him expectantly. Severus spelled the fire off and watched as the boy carefully stirred the potion—clockwise, of course. While he looked amazingly like his father, except for the surprising smattering of freckles across his nose, it was hard, at times, to see his father in him.

"Done!" exclaimed Albus as another timer went off.

Severus looked up just as Harry Potter walked into the room holding Lily, with James trailing behind him carrying a small broomstick.

"Helping Professor Snape again, Al?" he asked, walking over to sweep his small son off the high stool. He looked down into the potion and squinted at it.

"Dreamless sleep, Severus?" He looked inquiringly at the potions master.

"Right in one, Potter," answered Severus as he rolled up his parchment and tucked it into a drawer.

"Can we ask him now, Dad?" asked Albus in a whisper loud enough for Severus to hear.

"Sure." Harry glanced over at Severus. Severus let his gaze travel from Harry to the boy.

"It's my birthday on Sunday. We're having a party at th' Burrow." He looked at Severus expectantly. Surely he didn't want…

Harry's face struggled to suppress a smile as he watched a look of abject horror cross Severus' face before he replaced it with his patented look of calm neutrality.

"Indeed?" he responded. "And how old will you be?"

"Six!" exclaimed Albus. "We want you to come! Dad said it was fine and I already asked Grandma Molly but you can't wear black 'cuz it's a birthday, not a funeral…that's what Uncle George says anyway…"

"I…I…" Severus looked from Albus' excited face to Harry's amused one. Even James looked excited.

"We do want him, don't we James?" Albus turned to his brother, pleading.

A very Weasley-like grin lit up James' face. "Sure!" he said. "You'll bring a present for Al, won't you?"

All three Potter men looked expectantly at Severus.

"I will be there." Al's face lit up in a big smile and Harry looked a bit relieved.

"2 o'clock, then?" said Harry. "You can floo from our quarters."

Severus nodded. He was becoming a weak, sentimental old fool, going to children's birthday parties. He wondered briefly how many Weasleys there were nowadays and where he was going to get something to wear to the party.

 

 **SIX**

"Uncle Sev'rus!"

Severus looked up from the fourth year potions essays he was marking as Albus and James Potter barreled into his office. He'd been "Uncle Sev'rus" since the birthday party more than a month ago. Severus suspected George Weasley, but in all honesty, he enjoyed being Uncle to the small Potters. Today, James was clutching a roll of parchment. He braked to a halt in front of Severus' desk.

"Hello, James, Albus," said Severus, putting down his quill.

"A letter from Dad!" said James, panting as he handed over the parchment across the desk. "He needs you. Unca Ron can't get off work…"

"Uncle," corrected Severus automatically as he opened the roll of parchment and scanned its contents. As James stated, Harry was asking him to help referee the intramurals the next day. This was a new idea of Harry's—a "B" team approach that let more students play Quidditch in a formal setting. Instead of well-spaced matches throughout the year, the B games were held in November and April, with two games played on each Sunday.

"Thank you, boys," said Severus when he had finished reading the parchment. When the boy didn't leave, Severus raised an eyebrow, making the children giggle. Totally inaffective, he thought. "I'm not brewing today. Is there anything else you needed?"

"He said to wait," said James, crossing his arms in front of him in a fair imitation of his Aunt Hermione.

Severus fixed him with his best stare, but he'd never been able to put the menace in it when dealing with Albus, James and Lily that he used with his older students.

"For an answer," continued the boy, rolling his eyes as if Severus was the most dense person in the magical world.

"Oh," said Severus. "Are you a post owl now?" He fought to keep the corners of his mouth in line with the rest of his mouth. "Surely your father knows that I'm not a Quidditch referee…"

"He says you did it before. He says you refereed when he was a firstie…"

True enough. And he'd refereed some games since then too.

"I don't have a broom," he tried.

James smiled broadly. "Dad has plenty. You can ride the Firebolt 550 and he'll take the Nimbus Millennium. The Firebolt has more control but plenty of speed…"

He rattled on about the attributes of both brooms as Severus watched his small hands dance in the air, gesturing wildly as he talked. When he finished, he stood looking at Severus expectantly. Severus picked up the parchment and his quill, wrote something quickly, rolled it up and sealed it and handed it back to the child.

"Take that to your Father, then," he said.

"You said yes, right?" asked Albus, rather breathlessly.

"Against my better judgment, but yes, I did."

Albus looked at him and grinned. "Wicked." He ran toward the door then stopped suddenly and ran back to the desk.

"I forgot. Referee practice after lunch today. And Dad said we can watch!"

He high-tailed it out the door again and Severus stared after him. What was Harry Potter playing at and why in the name of all that is magic had he agreed to referee a Quidditch match?

"You are cruel."

"Admit it. You had fun."

Severus glared at the younger man but there was no malice in his dark eyes.

"If fun is dodging bludgers, casting featherweight charms on falling students and having a snitch up my sleeve and two seekers fighting each other to get inside my robes is fun then yes, I had fun."

Harry smiled and shook his head as he pulled his referee robes over his head. He pulled the band out of his hair, shaking out a mane of hair that had grown even longer since he'd first appeared on Severus' porch more than a year ago. Clearly fatigued himself, he limped over to a bench and plopped down, easing up his left leg and resting it on the bench opposite him. He pulled off his trainer and winced as he removed a long sock.

Severus did not move. His eyes were fixed on Harry's leg. Harry did not miss his gaze.

"Pretty, isn't it?" he asked, flexing his toes and beginning what clearly were exercises designed to loosen the tense muscles.

The potions professor took a few steps closer and finally sat on the bench beside Harry.

"Mungo's did all they could, of course, but it scarred all the same. The other one's not quite so bad. Further up the leg, closer to my hip."

The scar, curiously, resembled a lightning bolt. It jagged up his leg from his ankle to just below the knee.

"Laid it open in the crash," he said when Severus still hadn't said anything. He pointed to a thick spot mid-calf where the scar was particularly jagged. "Bone came through here, they say."

Severus could not resist the urge to reach over and trace the scar with his finger. Harry was silent as he watched the long, potion-stained finger's progress from ankle to knee.

"Small price to pay for my life, eh? They pulled the cabbie out in several pieces…"

Vaguely, Severus wondered where the newspaper stories about the accident that killed Harry Potter's wife and the hapless cabbie had been filed.

"Harry…" he tried, finally. It came out as almost a plea.

"What? Am I making you uncomfortable?" Harry's green eyes were apologetic and he reached for his sock again.

"No…it's not that. It's just that…well, you never mention your wife…when you spoke of the accident, and the cabbie…"

A significant pause as Harry quietly pulled on his sock and his trainer.

"I feel so guilty," admitted Harry as he stood.

Severus stared at him. Because you died and she didn't?

"Because I don't miss her anymore," added Harry very quietly. "I mourned her long before she died."

With the impeccable timing children have, Lily and James bounced in the room and Harry swung his daughter up into his arms. The conversation, if would seem, was over.

 

 **SEVEN**

He'd been invited to the Burrow for Christmas, but he'd declined as politely and as insistently as possible. Weeks of hunting through old newspapers and clipping out news articles had made him half-mad. He had finally consulted Ron Weasley, who had given him a long, assessing look before agreeing to pitch in and help the effort. Ron had spent a lot of time in Harry's home, and remembered many of the books that housed his collections.

With Harry and the children gone to the Burrow, and McGonagall's assistance in getting into Harry's quarters, Severus spent Christmas morning arranging books on a smaller bookshelf beside the fireplace. He had added a book that he doubted Harry had had before—"Catching the Elusive Snitch"—and filled it with the best articles about Harry—including his interview with the Quibbler in his 5th year.

With the books housed on their shelves, he then left the children's gifts under the small tree that Harry had set up in the sitting area. The child's potions kit, filled with real ingredients and a beginner's cauldron, would probably make Harry nervous, but Severus knew that Albus would love it. For James there was a set of child-sized Griffindor Quidditch robes and for nearly four-year-old Lily, a tabby kitten that was at least half kneazle.

He played Wizard's Chess with Flitwick after Christmas dinner, then shared a drink with staff members in the lounge before retiring to his quarters with a bottle of brandy and a good book. He had changed into his sleeping attire, adding the wine-colored robe Minerva had given him for Christmas, and finished nearly a quarter of the brandy when he was surprised by a knock on his door.

Curious, he rose to open it and found Harry standing there, dressed in Muggle clothing including a ridiculous green jumper with a gold "H" on the chest. He was alone, and he was carrying a large envelope.

Severus knew within a minute that he hadn't been up to his rooms.

"Happy Christmas, Severus," he said, Severus opened the door and stepped back to allow him to enter.

A small ball of nerves tightened in Severus' gut.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," he returned. He led them to the small sitting area before his fire.

"I'm having brandy," he said, letting the statement stand for an offer.

Harry nodded his head. "That would be good. Thank-you."

Severus filled a glass half-full and handed it to his visitor, then refilled his own glass and sat back down beside his book.

"I didn't expect to see you back so soon," started Severus.

"Oh." Harry looked slightly uncomfortable. He took a drink of the brandy, closing his eyes as he swallowed. "I'm not back for long—left the kids at the Burrow, in fact. But I wanted to bring you something while it was still Christmas." He leaned forward from the sofa and handed the envelope to Severus. Severus could not help but notice that his hand shook slightly as he held out the offering.

Severus took the envelope, looking curiously at Harry then back at the document in his hand. It was plain and unmarked, the flap tucked in, not sealed. He opened the flap and extracted three sheets of parchment.

The seal told him immediately they were from the Ministry.

He read the first, a lump already forming in his throat. An official letter of exoneration for his part in the death of Albus Dumbledore. His hand was shaking when he finished it, and he took another swallow of brandy. The letter was dated November 1st.

He managed to place the letter on the small table beside his chair though his hand was shaking so much he had some trouble. He glanced up at Harry before starting on the second document. The look on Harry's face was unreadable. If Severus had had to guess, he would have said the young man looked terrified.

The second letter was a letter of exemption. Severus T. Snape was to be exempted from any future registration or retribution program against former Death Eaters. "In recognition of his contributions to the final defeat of Lord Voldemort and his loyal followers…" He tried to put the second letter with the first on the table, but it drifted to the floor as he considered the last.

"Harry….this is too much…"

Harry shook his head.

"That last one was rather a surprise. We petitioned years ago and it just showed up last week."

Severus looked again at the letter. The Ministry of Magic was awarding Severus Snape the Order of Merlin, first class, for bravery and deeds during the final campaign….

The fist clenching in his gut twisted. He fought to maintain his composure.

"Harry, I…." He looked up at his visitor, then, knowing full well that his emotions were as unguarded as they had ever been. "I don't know how to thank you. I…don't know what to say even…"

Harry stood up and came over closer to Severus and crouched in front of his chair. He took the last paper from Severus' still shaking hand and laid it with the other on the table. He then took each of Severus' hands in one of his own and held them. Severus felt Harry's fingers smooth over his, felt Harry's thumb tracing circles on his palm.

"You deserve this. And we wanted to thank you for it. You've saved my life again this year. You've been more than a friend to me, and more than an uncle to the children…."

The lump in his throat would not leave. He was hyper-aware of Harry's hands on his, of the heat in those hands. Desire began to well up within him. Instinct made him resort to diversionary tactics.

"I left your gift in your room," he managed to say as he continued to watch Harry's thumbs trace patterns on his roughened palms.

A curious look glanced over Harry's face. He squeezed Severus' hands one last time then stood, wobbling a bit until he got his bad leg sorted out.

"Come with me, then," he said. "You'll want to see me open it, won't you?"

"I'm dressed for bed, Harry…"

Harry shook his head. "As Hermione would say, are you a wizard or what, Severus?" He pulled out his wand and waved it, casting a silent spell that transformed Severus' sleep pants and robe into trousers and a respectable dark green Weasley jumper.

Five minutes later, they were at Harry's door.

"How did you..?" began Harry as he gave the password to get in.

"Minerva," answered Severus and Harry smiled.

There was no telltale package on the table and the ones under the tree were clearly for the children. The kitten mewled from its perch on the sofa and stretched its back. Harry looked around the apartment quickly then back at Severus who had remained standing by the door. Severus nodded in the direction of the bookshelves.

Harry's gaze moved over to the bookcase and an indecipherable look passed over his face as he walked over to the wall and pressed his hand out to graze along the spines of the tomes.

"My books," he said. Severus thought there was something odd or forced about his reaction, and understood that Harry didn't know yet that there was more to the books than their covers.

He turned toward Severus, a grin on his face. "Hermione helped?" he asked.

"A bit," answered Severus. "She knew some of the titles better."

Harry turned back to the books then back again to Severus. "This is unbelievable, Severus. But how did…?"

Severus smiled. "The day Albus was ill and Poppy made me babysit you. I had a chance to study your library while you were sleeping."

Harry's face froze. He slowly turned back to the books, reached up, and removed "Standing Tall with the Giants." He opened it to the front pages and finding the familiar envelope there, closed it again and reached for a second book. "Arthur," he whispered, placing "All Things Muggle" on top of "Standing Tall."

"I am not promising that I found all the titles. I had to make some guesses. And as for the contents…I limited my search to the common British Wizarding sources…"

But Harry did not seem to be listening. He had reached up for another book. As he fingered their covers and opened them, he called them by name instead of title. "Neville… Fred & George… Hermione… Dumbledore… Sirius…. Remus…"

"I made a list to cross-reference them for you," explained Severus, his nervousness showing as Harry continued. "In case I was wrong with some of the titles…"

"Severus…" Harry was holding "Most Potente Potions" now. He opened it to check for the envelope, closed it again and replaced it carefully on the shelf.

And then he was walking toward Severus, limping slightly, as always, but walking with a purpose of mind and determination that seemed unlike the Harry Severus knew of late. He stopped in front of Severus, reached up to place one hand on his shoulder, the other around the back of his neck and then he was kissing him, warm, moist breath ghosting over his neck, kissing him first with insistent lips, then with determined tongue, pushing into his mouth and dancing over his teeth, tasting, caressing. The hand on his neck tightened as Severus forgot his surprise and kissed him back, knowing only pleasure, wanting only Harry. His hands had already moved on their own to rest on Harry's narrow hips and as Harry deepened the kiss, he brought them around Harry's back, pulling him closer. But as Harry moved his lips down to the hollow of Severus' neck, as Severus found his hands tangled in Harry's hair, a voice…a quite unexpected voice…called out from the kitchen.

"Harry? You there?"

"Ron…" mumbled Harry, pulling back from Severus only slightly to mouth the word before moving his lips back to the corner of Severus' mouth.

"Are you there, mate? Mum's asking where you got off to. Is it alright to tell her?"

"Go 'way Ron!" called out Harry with a half-laugh as he pushed a still-startled Severus against the wall. "And don't come in here unless you want to see Severus in a Weasley jumper."

Severus was staring with abject horror at Harry.

"They know?" he hissed. He turned tables on Harry and whirled them around so that now Harry was pressed against the wall with Severus' hands against his, pinning them to the wall beside his head.

A laugh from the kitchen, the sound of a cabinet opening.

"OK, then. I'm taking the scotch with me. You coming back tonight?"

Severus found Harry's eyes locked with his own, a question in them, and perhaps a plea. The corner of his mouth twitched.

"No, Ron…I don't think so," he called out hoarsely as Severus' hand snaked under his jumper and traced up his stomach. "Tell Molly…oh…I'll be back for the kids in the morning…"

"Hermione sends her love…to both of you," Ron called out and with a final laugh and a roar of flames in the kitchen floo he was gone.

"You have some explaining to do, Mr. Potter." Severus' voice was low in Harry's ear as he continued to run his hand over Harry's stomach and chest, wrenching a moan out of the younger man.

"Later," groaned Harry as he tried to grind into his would-be lover.

"Who knows where you are, Harry?" he asked, his lips just touching Harry's earlobe. Harry moaned again and tried to free his hands but Severus bore down even harder. "Who?"

"Ron…and Hermione. That's all…"

"And what exactly do they know?" Severus' voice had dropped a notch. He nuzzled a soft expanse of neck as Harry dropped his head back against the wall.

"Hermione's always known…." whispered Harry as he finally freed a hand and dove under Severus' jumper, winding his hand around and across his back, smoothing over pale skin.

But Severus had lifted his head and was staring at his captive. Harry took the chance and freed his other hand, wrapping it again into the Potion Master's hair.

"And Ron figured it out after the fire," added Harry, very softly, as he drew his startled lover down for another kiss.

Severus' mind reeled as he let Harry explore his mouth, responding without thinking, working his hands up under the green jumper and drawing him close again.

"Why so long?" breathed Severus as Harry's hands crept under the waistband of his trousers, caressing, kneading the soft flesh.

"You weren't exactly jumping me," breathed Harry.

"Duly noted," said Severus as he grasped the bottom of Harry's jumper and pulled it over his head, dropped it on the floor, then moved his hands to the button of Harry's trousers. "You needed time…" He wavered then, only a second, regarding the harsh scar rising above the waistband of Harry's jeans, but the pause was long enough for Harry to notice.

"I told you they were ugly," he said softly as his hands moved up under Severus' jumper again, grazing over the old raised scars on his lover's back.

But Severus had fallen gracefully to his knees, one arm around Harry's thighs as the other hand traced the long scar and was replaced by lips pressing open-mouthed kisses on the delicate skin beside it, between his navel and the hollow of his hip. Harry shivered and seemed to melt back against the wall, a soft moan escaping his lips. Severus embraced him with both hands, pressing his face against the warmth of Harry's stomach, rubbing against the bulge in his trousers with a possessive air. Reflexively, Harry thrust forward then let his knees buckle, sliding down against the wall until he was sitting on the floor. Green and black eyes regarded each other heatedly for seconds before Harry launched himself at Severus, knocking him backwards.

And Severus remembered. Remembered the feel of smooth skin beneath his hands. The fall of heavy hair. The weight on him was more than he remembered, the hair longer, the need even more pressing because it was need suppressed for years. He groaned, clutched Harry's hips and arched up just as Harry pressed down and bit lightly at the base of his neck.

"I want you," breathed Severus into Harry's hair. His hands moved around the younger man's hips to clutch his arse and pull him in even closer. He moaned, unable to swallow the sound, and made an attempt to roll Harry over but the man dug in his knees and kept him in place, moving his mouth from lips to neck to ear, pressing kisses against raised scars and smooth skin. Severus responded by thrusting upward again, the weight upon him satisfying, but wanting to feel skin on skin all the way down. He fumbled between them for the button on Harry's jeans, unfastening it more by chance than by skill.

"It's just like I remember," breathed Harry into his ear. That night, the week before the trial. The night Severus had bloodied his hand punching the wall and Harry had tried to make him stop, sliding between the wall and Severus, but he'd ended up hitting Harry as well, hitting him first, then falling against him, sobbing as Harry held him, Harry's murmurs of comfort morphing into moans as Severus' tears dried and his mouth, buried in the crook of Harry's neck, tasted his skin for the first time then slid up to capture an earlobe before lips met lips and the urgent need to feel, to feel something besides pain and loss and fear overtook them both.

"It's better," breathed Severus, as Harry's mouth moved lower, his breath hot and moist against the soft skin of Severus' belly.

"Yeah, no Voldemort," laughed Harry. "And no horcruxes, no prophesies, no trial…" He tongued Severus' navel and sighed, laying his head against the warm belly. "And no regrets…never any regrets…."

 

 **EIGHT**

EPILOGUE

If the years were kind to Harry Potter, they were doubly kind to Severus Snape. He and Harry slid together with little fuss or fanfare and the Weasleys accepted him without negative comment or complaint. The children took very little convincing, happily switching from "Uncle Sev'rus" to "Papa Sev'rus" and eventually, to Severus' chagrin, "Pop." The Potter-Snapes added a daughter when Lily was 6, courtesy of a surrogate arranged through Hermione, and another son two years later, just before Albus started at Hogwarts.

The family was hardly conventional, and no one was really surprised when Severus retired to the rebuilt Hogsmeade cottage to raise the children and continue his potions research. And while Harry and Severus never discussed who fathered which baby, Madeline's dark-as-night eyes and silky black hair gave her biological father away just as baby Will's green eyes did.

On September 1st, on a misty Autumn morning, while Muggle Londoners read of the birth of a future king to the Prince and Princess of Wales, witches and wizards waiting for the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9¾ at Kings Cross Station read in their Daily Prophet that Harry Potter would begin serving as Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts this term and would be elevated to Headmaster in January, following the impending retirement of Minerva McGonagall. Some looked up from their papers to spot the Potter-Snape family on the platform. Draco Malfoy pocketed the paper thoughtfully, gazing down the platform at the two living men who had most influenced the course of his life. Harry was kneeling down in front of the smaller boy, the one that looked so much like him, holding his shoulders and talking to him, then gathering him in a hug. The older boy, the rough-and-tumble combination of Weasley and Potter with messy, auburn hair and bright brown eyes, held a small girl of three or so, bouncing her on his hip with practiced ease. The child caught Draco's eye as she chewed on the wing of a worn dragon plushie and Draco was struck by the dark onyx of those eyes, so like her father's. Severus handed a bundled baby off to Harry as he took his turn with the boy. A red-headed girl dashed around Harry's legs with another redheaded child at her heels, and Harry sat down on the platform and took the small girl from his oldest son to share his lap along with the infant. As Draco watched, the Hogwarts-bound boy slung his hands around Severus' neck and Severus stood, lifting him up and hugging him closely. As he turned he caught Draco staring at him and for a moment, only a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a smile.

Then the "All Aboard" sounded and Draco quickly turned back to his own wife and son. As Draco very unexpectedly fell to one knee to address his son at his level, Severus lowered Albus to the platform, letting go of him reluctantly, and the child clamored on board the train, trying to keep up with his brother and his cousins. Beside Severus, Ron Weasley lifted 4-year-old Miles onto his shoulders while Hermione tried to corral Lily and Hugo and Maddie scrambled off Harry's lap and lifted her arms to Severus, demanding a ride as well.

A moment later, Severus Snape stood on platform 9¾ of Kings Cross Station, his 3-year-old daughter sitting on his shoulders, her small warm hands cupped under his chin. He was mirrored by a redhead several inches taller with a bushy brown-haired boy pointing at the scarlet engine. They waved at the train as it steamed out of the station, stopping only when the last car was out of sight.

"Come on, Deputy Headmaster," said Severus, putting Maddie down with a pat on her behind and pulling Harry to his feet. The two nodded courteously at Draco and his wife as they walked by, looking stiffly alone without their son. Severus steadied Harry as he sorted out his bad leg then helped to settle Will in his carriage, snapping the warm liner around him.

"Hurry, Pop!" exclaimed Lily, taking his free hand. "We don't want to miss the sorting! James is sure Al will go right to Slytherin but I'm betting on Gryffindor…" Her voice trailed away as the two families joined the crowds moving toward the floo room and apparition points beside the barrier.

Many hours later, as they lay in their bed together, winding down after a long and tiring day, Harry shook his head one more time.

"Hufflepuff! And Scorpius Malfoy with him!"

Severus chuckled. "I'm sure the Malfoys will get over it…eventually. For all that the Malfoys and other purebreds value loyalty, they certainly do not expect their children to land in Hufflepuff. As for Albus, you must have seen it coming, Harry. Al may be brave and smart and cunning, but he is loyal above all else. Your daughters, you know, are both going to Slytherin, so I'm afraid you'll have to wait for Will before you have a chance at another Gryffindor."

Harry rolled his eyes. He didn't bother to argue about the girls-he was sure Severus was right about Lily but still reserved judgment on Maddy. "I'm just glad that Al's happy." He recalled the big smile on Al's face as the hat announced its choice after rather a long time on his head. The clapping and cheers coming from the Hufflepuff table were nearly deafening. The sorting had ended with Rose Weasley going to Ravenclaw. No surprises there. Harry yawned and snuggled into Severus' side and was asleep within minutes.

Severus leaned over to check that Will was still asleep in his cradle and well tucked in and that the night-time bottle on the bedside table was properly charmed to avoid spoiling. A red and gold phoenix plushie rested near the baby's feet and he fished it out and set it beside the bottle. He stilled, as he did most nights, to listen carefully to the quiet house a moment. Pancakes, the kneazle kit he'd given Lily for Christmas five years before, sneezed from her resting place at their feet.

"Nox," said Severus, satisfied that all was well. As the lights dimmed, he kissed the lightning-bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead, then grazed his lips over the new L-shaped scar on his shoulder, acquired during a recent pick-up Quidditch game at the Weasleys. He retrieved his pillow which Harry had once again purloined, wrapped his arms around the sleeping deputy headmaster, closed his eyes and with a contented sigh, followed him peacefully into sleep.

 _FIN_


End file.
